


Lightfingers

by hossgal



Category: Farscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-08
Updated: 2006-12-08
Packaged: 2019-06-19 08:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15506661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hossgal/pseuds/hossgal
Summary: For now, it was hers, and hers alone. Chiana, pre-series.





	Lightfingers

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Glass Onion](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Glass_Onion), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Glass Onion’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/glassonion/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** No spoilers. 400 words.

  
Author's notes: No spoilers. 400 words.  


* * *

Lightfingers

 

 

## Lightfingers

### by hossgal

Halfway home, Chiana stopped and pulled it out, just for a microt, to take another look at it. Even in the veiled light of the night-hour corridor, it shimmered against the dull ash of her palm. 

A distant thud made her head jerk up, but it was only the air handlers, shifting back on. Her eyes flickered, glancing up and down the hallway - empty, clean as a fresh-washed bowl. She turned her attention back to the prize in her hands. 

Nerri would be _very_ impressed - she could picture it already, how his eyes would light up, the shape his mouth would make, the shake of his hands as he reached to touch the gleaming thing. 

He would want to know where she found it, because he'd want one, too. _And why not?_ But for now, it was hers, and hers alone. 

She cupped both hands around the pretty thing, put her back to the corridor wall and slid down. Her coat pooled at her feet as she knelt, the fiber-plast on the wall warm through through her clothes. One level up, the heat pumps labored on, shifting pressurized slurry through the chamber walls in a continuous wave, warming the whole city as it went. The steady pulse was too quiet to hear, but she could feel it, a rumble that tickled along her spine and set up resonance in her lungs. She leaned against the wall, just for a moment, and rubbed her back against it. The tremor ran up and down her skin, from the base of her skull to down to the flat bowl of her hips. There, low in her gut, the hum redoubled on itself. She tilted her head and let her skull touch the wall, lost in the sensation. 

It was not until her closed fist fell on her thigh that she remembered her treasure. 

She cupped it close again, slit one eye open to peer at it. Her breath misted on the outer shell, dampened the gleam for a moment. Then it cleared, and the polychrome sparkle shone through again. 

A door slammed, around the corner. Chiana's head came up, and she scrambled to her feet at the sound of multiple footsteps. Before the intruders rounded the turn, she was moving, feet flashing beneath the coat hem, running for home.

Fandom:  Farscape   
Title:   **Lightfingers**   
Author:   **hossgal**   [email]   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **G**  |  **gen**  |  **2k**  |  **12/08/06**   
Characters:  Chiana   
Summary:  For now, it was hers, and hers alone. Chiana, pre-series.   
Notes:  No spoilers. 400 words.   
Disclaimer/Other:  For Kernezelda, who asked for Chiana and a moment of joy. Thanks to Florastuart for beta. Disclaimer/Permissions/Contact: Farscape characters and concepts property of Kemper, et al, and BSG belongs to Ron Moore. Not me. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. Please do not archive without permission, please credit the author if remixing/borrowing original characters/etc. Reviewing, reccing, feedback (positive, not positive, concrit, all welcome) need neither permission nor notification. Feedback printed out and taped to Moya's frig at hosscheka at yahoo dot com.   
  



End file.
